


Drumsticks and Paperbacks.

by amanda_jolene



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Non-Werewolf, Punk!Pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1464499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanda_jolene/pseuds/amanda_jolene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac Lahey just wants to play drums. Laramie Whittemore just wants to read her book. Jackson can't look away and Stiles can't stop smiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter Of Our... Discount?

“We need a really good name. Something punk and solid. Something that screams fuck you and your establishment.” 

Erica is a little too enthusiastic today. Isaac has half a mind to ask her if she’s taken one of Stiles’ adderall but she’s already launched in the second part of her we need a good band name spill. No one is paying attention to her (no one ever does) and Stiles starts drumming on the table (which makes Isaac glare because he’s the fucking drummer, not Stiles) and Scott raises his eyebrows at Isaac as if to say can you believe we hang out with these losers?

“Derek said he didn’t want a name,” Scott reminds her, cutting her off mid-rant which seems to stir her ire just that much more. 

“Fuck Derek! How the hell are we supposed to be known if we don’t have a name? That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

All three boys duck their heads and try not to smile because right now (when she’s mad at Derek) it’s a dumb idea but when her mega crush comes back, she’ll think it’s cool and edgy again.

“Careful, Reyes. You’ll give yourself a seizure.” 

“Such my dick, Stiles.” She reaches for Isaac’s apple and any other day, he might have karate chopped her arm but he just wasn’t feeling it today. “You ok?”

He shrugs. Nods. Whatever. “Yep.” 

But the truth is, he’s got another appointment with Vera the Great Shrink because he bailed on the last appointment and he’s got a mountain of homework he need to get caught up on. He’s usually pretty good at keeping up with everything (he had insomnia to thank for that) but lately he’s fallen in this mood of not giving a fuck (different from his normal sort of not giving a fuck) which is what has warranted another meeting with Vera the Great. 

“You’re coming to practice tonight, right?” Stiles asks when Isaac gets up from the table. “Because last time you didn’t show up, Derek… well, he scared me.” 

“He always scares you.” 

“True. I meant more than usual, though.” 

He wants to say that’s not very punk rock of you but that would take energy he just didn’t have. Isaac settles for a shrug. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You better be there!” Erica calls after him.

He always played around like he didn’t know if he would show up to their practices, but he always did. What the hell else was he supposed to do with his spare time? Lacrosse? Yeah his fath- Bill would love that. Probably give himself a stroke from cheering too hard. 

He makes a lot of racket going down the hall, boots stomping, long fingers jingling every lock he encounters. Fuck this place. He hated Beacon Hills with a rolling passion he usually reserved for Miley Cyrus and Spanish class but his only alternative was the super smart school two towns over and while his adoptive parents wanted him to go there (he had tested in so high the school offered him a scholarship), Isaac was no fucking nerd. As much as Beacon Hills sucked, at least he had friends and everyone knew not to fucking mess with him. But at the other school, he would have no one because Isaac fucking Lahey would not subscribe to the systems view of intelligence. No, he preferred roaming the halls here. 

The main thing was just to ignore. Ignore his adoptive family, ignore Vera the Great, ignore all the fucks he goes to school with. He reminds himself of this when he turns a corner and right down the hall is a girl cornered by two guys. Isaac can’t afford another fight. Another fight and they would probably kick him out and then he’d have no choice but to go to that fancy school.   
But he always can’t let a fuckin’ girl get bullied by two asshole. 

The closer her gets, the more conversation he hears, the angrier he gets. He tries counting to ten but it’s not working. 

“What are you reading?” The tallest of the two assholes asks, plucked her book out of her hands. “The Winter of Our Discount.” 

“Discontent,” she corrects. “Please, just-“

There’s the sound of paper shredding as the boy pulls the over off the book and then starts systematically ripping the pages out one by one. 

“Stop!” She tries to grab the book but he jerks it away and flings it down the hall. 

“Go fetch.”

The shorter boy howls with laughter and he’s closer so when Isaac winds up, he catches fist first right in the side of his head. And for whatever reason, the other boy lurches to the side, too, and as the two twats fall over each other, Isaac comes face to face with Jackson Whittemore. He doesn’t know much about Jackson other than he’s a pretty boy asshat and Isaac can’t fathom that he’d stoop so low as to help out a girl who wasn’t a perfect 10. But Jackson’s face is read as he hauls the book shredder to his feet. 

“Apologize to her now,” he grits out. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Jackson gives the boy a shake. “And tomorrow, you better have her a new book, understand?”

When the guy nods, Jackson releases him and the two idiots scramble up and book it down the hall. Jackson gives the girl a look Isaac can’t place and she just rolls her eyes at him and stoops down to pick up the mess of pages. As per usual, he ignores Isaac and starts walking back down the hall, only stopping to pick up the torn book and pocketing it. 

Her hands are shaking and she keeps dropping the pages she picks up. Of course, it’s not his concern anymore because he did the responsible thing and punched a dude in the head. He had every right to walk away but then walking away from someone who was clearly in distress would make him just as big of an asshat as Jackson so he heaves a giant sigh and kneels down pick up the pages, taking the ones she had in her hands and making a neat pile of them before handing them back over. 

“Janitor would have picked them.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s not right to make someone else clean up your messes. And I have notes in the margins.” She shifted a little. “Um, thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, it was really-“

He held up a hand. “No, seriously. Don’t mention it. To anyone. Ever. They’d probably expel me.” 

Her brown eyes widen a bit as her mouth forms an o. “Well, then. This never happened.” 

“Nope.” 

She’s not entirely forgettable, he decides an hour later. Because after that she just made a little noise of consent and walked away. She’s not a 10 and she’s not punk (her granny cardigan was proof of that) so he doesn’t get why he’s so wrapped up in thinking about her when he should be 3 pages deep in history notes. For christ’s sake, he doesn’t even know her name. And she’s not even his type. Not that he has a type. But if he did, it definitely wouldn’t be her because Isaac isn’t into granny cardigans or girls with stupidly long black hair or really curvy hips or cute chubby stomachs or boobs that looked like two soft pillows of pure unadulterated joy and-

Alright. Enough. 

He hunches his shoulders and curves over his desk, setting his pen to paper with purpose. Notes. Notes on history. History notes. But he’s coming up blank and it doesn’t matter how much the teacher drones on, he just can’t pay attention (but Stiles has taken 3 adderall today and has 9 pages of notes so Isaac isn’t too concerned). 

When the bell rings, he’s anxious to go because he’s got a note in his back pocket that excuses him from his last class so that he can go see Vera the Great (although, he doesn’t plan to actually go). He just needs to tell Erica that she needs to keep her trap shut about the band name tonight so that maybe they can get at least one good practice in before their gig on Saturday. 

Stiles is right behind him, going on about this new band he found on the internet (“Their name is Kanima and I’m not so sure they’re speaking English but who knows. You know some of those screamer bands, it’s like, I don’t even think they have lyrics. I think it’s just like grunting.”) and he wishes Erica would hurry the fuck up because he likes Stiles but only in small doses and with Scott as a buffer, especially when he’s had too many adderall. Erica walks out of the door backwards, still talking to someone and she’s got the dumbest smile on her face and Isaac rolls his eyes because clearly she’s found someone to take Derek’s place as her top crush. 

But his smile falters when the girl from earlier walks out. 

She looks a little bowled over by Erica’s exuberance and tells Erica that they’ll talk more but she’s really got to go to her last class and she manages a small smile and practically runs down the hall. And yeah, Erica’s got heart eyes when she looks at Isaac and mouths “Oh. My. God.” 

“She’s not even your type!” Stiles makes a face. “I thought you liked older women. And men. Really, you’re just into oldies.” 

“You don’t know my type.” She shoots back. 

“Ok, well, let’s argue this for a second. The last, oh, 5 relationships you’ve been in have been with people 5 to 8 years older than you, they’ve all been in the punk scene, and they’ve all looked like coked out whores. I include the men in this but not Derek. Although, you and Derek haven’t ever dated even though there was that weird kiss in the back of Fallon’s but I just sort of think we were all a little-“

“Shut up,” she pushes Stiles back by his face. “Go to class and stop taking so much adderall.” 

“I have ADHD.” 

“You’re about to have my foot up your ass.” 

“Going. See you guys at practice.”

Erica waits until Stiles is a good bit away before she raises her eyebrows. “So, what do you think?” 

He plays dumb. He’s not very good at it (being a straight forward sort of guy). “About what?” 

“Laramie!” She rolls her eyes. “The girl I was just talking to.”

Great. Now he has a name to contemplate. “I thought you had sworn off women.” 

“Women, yes. But that… that is a fine young girl who just needs my attention, I swear.” 

“She looked scared.” 

“Think I came on too strong?” 

“Probably.” 

Erica contemplates this as they move down the hall. “She’s my new lab partner. Cute, sort of quiet. Very mellow but I have a feeling she’d be a hell cat in bed. I normally don’t go for chubby but damn those tits are spectacular.” 

“Hips, too.” He mumbles under his breath. 

“What?”

“I have to go,” he says more clearly. “Listen, don’t pester Derek about the name thing, ok? We need this practice and if you bring it up, he’ll flip and everyone will leave. Just… be cool for a while.” 

“I’m in love, you ass. Of course I’m going to be cool.” 

When he pushes the door open and steps into the sunshine, he has to pause and take a deep breath. Erica falls in love twice a week and it didn’t matter to him if she liked this girl because Isaac fuckin’ Lahey didn’t care about girls or anything other than music. But something in the back of his mind says that he would care if the girl liked Erica back. 

Maybe he does need that talk with Vera the Great. 

She’s surprised when he shows up but covers it up with a smile and asks him how he’s doing. Any nightmares? How’s the anger issues? Has been able to control his impulsivity? 

Yes. Just fine. Sort of. 

Was he nervous about the upcoming trial? Was he afraid to face his father? Had he had any contact with his biological family? 

No. No. No. 

He’s sullen after that and even though they’ve got another half-hour to go, neither of them say another word because Isaac’s knuckles have gone white and his mouth his set in a hard line and his blue eyes are unfocused. 

“What are you thinking about, Isaac?” Vera the Great asks him during the last moment of their session. 

He thinks about telling her that he’s got 4 hours of homework ahead of him and two papers and band practice. He thinks about tell her that he’s been unfocused all day and that he couldn’t understand why he liked the girl, he just did. He thought about telling her of the fire that was burning in his stomach and how he was suddenly claustrophobic again and he was having nightmares about being locked in the freezer more and more often. 

But then the timer dings and he gives her a blistering smile. “Time’s up. See you next time, Vera.”


	2. Here We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac's POV: the band sucks, life is messy, and Chaucer is a dick.

People were forever telling Isaac he was lucky.

Maybe he was. Statistically speaking, Isaac should still be bouncing around foster homes. People wanted cute infants and toddlers, not damaged 13 years olds who had an extreme fear of tight spaces and cold places. Bill and Shannon Mower had seen something in Isaac though and they became his first and last set of foster parents.   
But when people tell Isaac he’s lucky, he has to set his jaw hard and clench his tongue between his teeth to keep from snapping at them. Three years of love and stability didn’t erase 13 years of abuse.

That’s why Isaac still wakes up in a sweat most nights. 

It’s why he has insomnia.

Tonight (well, technically this morning he realizes when his vision is clear enough to look at the clock) is no different. It’s the same dream he’s had for the last year. Starts with a creeping cold feeling and a dark, pressing space moving in on him. The worst though, that part that wakes him up, makes him pant and shake and swallow back a sob, is a low, hollow voice saying “When we do bad things, Isaac, we have to be punished in a bad way.” 

He’s still not sure what bad things he actually did. 

Regardless, it’s 4 a.m. and he’s had exactly 45 minutes of sleep and there is no way he was going to be able to fall back to sleep. School would be fun tomorrow. 

It takes a moment (or three) for his heart beat to slow down to a normal pace and he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt before getting out of bad. Might as well catch up on his homework before his teachers called Bill. There was absolutely nothing worse than having one of those ‘Isaac, you have so much potential’ talks with his adoptive parents. Isaac was used to punishment not that touchy-feely-new-agey bullshit the Mowers were into. Worse yet, if he got too far behind in his school work, they wouldn’t let him play in the band until he was caught up and would probably make him quit his after-school job. 

Not that it mattered. The band sucked. Everyone on a different page kind of suck. Tonight had been a disaster as usual. Regardless of the fact that Erica was supposedly so in love, she still brought up the band name. Derek had dismissed the issue (as he usually did and with same amount of disdain he normally saved for Stiles) but Erica was obviously feeling feisty and refused to play until the issue was addressed. 

“I said no and that’s final.” Derek had growled.

“You aren’t lord and master of the universe!”

“My band, my basement, my rules.” 

“Hey! It’s not just your band!” Stiles had interjected but when Derek turned around to glare at him, he recanted. “I mean, it could be your band. That would totally be up to-“

“Shut up.” 

“Shutting up,” Stiles deflated, clutching his bass close to his chest. 

Isaac knew practice was pretty much fucked after that. Erica and Derek could call each other names, yell and scream, but the second Derek laid into Stiles, things were done because Scott had a zero bullshit policy when it came to his best friend. 

Sure enough, Scott took his guitar off and heaved a sigh before moving to put it in his guitar case. 

And that was it, practice was over before it really got started because Stiles scrambled to put his bass up as Erica and Derek lapsed into another argument. 

“This is why we suck,” Isaac mumbled to himself. “Can’t even make it through one practice.”

He thought about just smacking the shit out of the drums. Just pick a beat and go with it, the others be damned, because he felt like he never got to play (drumming was one of the very few things Isaac actually enjoyed). There were Derek’s crap drums and Bill told Isaac if he wanted a set for the house, he would have to save up his own money to buy them. He was almost there (he saved every penny he earned from digging graves and taking care of the cemetery) but he was still a solid month away from having his own set and he wanted to play now. 

But then Derek spouted off something about them all being toddlers and Isaac was out the door with the other three because _fuck Derek Hale._

“I can replace all of you!” Derek called after them. 

“Go ahead, asshole!” Erica had chirped back. 

It’s all talk, though. Regardless of how many fights they had, what names they called each other, or how many practices began and ended in a fuss and a cuss, Isaac figured they were all pretty much stuck together. Beacon Hills with all its flash and flare wasn’t a safe place for broken people and the five of them were all shattered in a different way. Derek and Isaac were both orphans (in very different ways), Stiles and Scott were each missing a parent, and Erica would never live down the fact that she pissed herself when she had seizures. 

“Well, since practice went to hell, can we please go get food? I’m feeling curly fries might be in order.” Stiles opened the door to his jeep and scrambled in, waiting for Scott and Erica to do much of the same. 

“Yeah, I’ll just meet you guys there.” Isaac knew he was obvious and transparent as he shuffled to his truck but at least the other two boys have enough grace not to comment. 

But not Erica.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Isaac. You don’t have to make up with him. He’s a huge-“

She didn’t finish that thought (or at the very least, Isaac doesn’t hear her) when Stiles started the jeep and it literally roared to life. “See ya there!” Scott yelled at him as Stiles shifted into reverse. 

He knew Erica was right. It wasn’t his place to apologize to Derek. Hell, he didn’t have anything to apologize for. But he had known Derek the longest, could still remember when Derek and Cam were best friends and Derek was the only thing he had left to link him to Cam besides some albums and a few grungy t-shirts that Isaac couldn’t bear to get rid of. 

“Derek?” Isaac called out, throwing his backpack into the passenger seat of the Bronco. “Come on, dude. I gotta go.” 

“Then go,” Derek snapped at him, walking out on the front porch. 

“You alright?” 

“What? You think some stupid comments from Erica is going to crush my soul or something? Get off it, Isaac. Go home.” 

Isaac can handle his gruffness. In fact, he likes it. It’s the same tone Cam used to use when they both knew Dad was on his way home and one of them was going to get locked in the freezer and Cam would tell Isaac to get the hell out of dodge. 

“You want me to hang around?” Isaac offered. 

There’s the briefest smile on Derek’s normally grumpy face. “Are you deaf? I said go home. Do some homework. Be a smart kid.” 

“Whatever,” Isaac shrugged, walking around the front of the Bronco. “We do need a name though.” 

“Really? Try this on for size: kiss my ass, Lahey.”

Isaac doesn’t respond (although he does want to tell him it has a nice ring) as he slams his car door shut and cranks the ignition, headlights putting a momentary spotlight on Derek leaning against the doorframe. Isaac had once asked Derek if he ever got lonely being out in the middle of nowhere by himself. 

Derek had told him he had plenty of ghosts to keep him company. 

At the diner, Stiles was already elbows deep in a pile of curly fries. 

“Did you save me any?” Isaac asked, sliding into the booth beside him. 

“Hell no,” Stiles managed around a mouth full of chewed potatoes. “Want some of these?” 

“Nah, I’m good.” Truth was, Isaac was having one of those panicky nights and he knew anything that ended up in his stomach would end up being hurled up later on. He’d seen the best and worst of his friends but he did not want them to see him puke his guts up for no visible reason. 

“Did you and your boyfriend kiss and make up?” Erica teased, sipping her soda. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Oh, yeah, I forget that you’re the only hetero one.” 

“Hey! I’m straight!” Scott pointed to himself. “I like girls and girls only, ok?” 

“I’m still not fully convinced you and Stiles aren’t fucking on the sly,” she told him. 

Stiles face pulled up in a grimace. “Oh, come on. I’m trying to eat here.”

“Yeah but-“

“Erica, shut up.” Isaac shook his head. She was forever on about Stiles and Scott being in some secret relationship. Admittedly, Isaac had thought the same when he first became friends with them (and occasionally still wondered) but shit was old by now. Stiles was pretty much out of the closet and Scott was pretty much hetero (as far as anyone knew). If they wanted to be lovers, great. If they weren’t, cool. But for God’s sake, he wished Erica would just let them be. 

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about you guys, anyway. I want to talk about my new budding relationship with Laramie Whittemore.” 

“Whittemore?” Stiles choked out. “Like Jackson’s sister? You would date someone who is related to that asshole?” 

“She’s his adopted sister. I think they’re both adopted. But I think Jackson was adopted like at birth and then Laramie was adopted when she was-“

“How do you know all of this?” Isaac interrupted.

“I have study hall with her best friend and I might have cornered her and asked for some info. And then I might have gotten her friend to give me her Instagram and facebook.” When the three boys gaped at her, she set her drink down with a firm thump and threw her hands up. “What?”

“You don’t think that’s the slightest bit strange?” Scott asked. “Like bordering on stalker?”

“It’s important to know things about who you want to fuck with. What if I pursued her whole-heartedly only to find out that she doesn’t like girls even a little? I would be crushed and who have to fuck your mom, Scott.” 

Scott’s mouth opened furiously but Isaac threw a hand in between them. “Hold up. Is she into girls?” Please say no. For the love of- wait. Why should I care? I don’t do the dating thing. She’s cute but-

“I don’t know. She seems pretty concealed in that area of her life although I did peep a picture on her Instagram of some boob grabbing by another girl. Totally made me jealous but hell, it’s something to work with, I suppose.” 

Well, that’s not so bad, he guessed. It did suck that she was Jackson’s sister (even if they weren’t directly related) but-

But why the hell was he thinking about this? He should be telling Erica to go for it, be encouraging her to pursue (if for nothing more than the pleasure of watching her crash and burn as she usually did) but he found himself wishing that she wouldn’t because, well, ok, he liked this weird girl in the granny sweater. 

Sort of liked. 

_Aw, fuck._

He knew Erica was waiting on his approval (they were close in the way Stiles and Scott were close) but he just couldn’t bring himself to say the words so instead he told his friends he had to go (“New curfew” which was total bullshit). 

10 hours later, he was still trying to process. 

He knew whatever he was feeling was pretty much superficial. He didn’t know this girl. But he also knew that he hadn’t really had a crush on anyone since last year but even then, when the rush of hormones had died down, he knew that he had really only wanted to fuck Lydia. Maybe show her off. It was such a terrible, dick thing to think that he had immediately told himself to cut that shit out and had started devoting large amounts of time to learning how to play the drums until whatever Lydia Martin thoughts in his head were completely dead. 

But this felt… different. Not a good different either. Isaac didn’t do dates or relationships. Get close to people and all that ends up happening is bruised and busted hearts (and sometimes bruised and busted skin). He wasn’t interested in girls or guys or anyone and had entertained the thought that maybe he was asexual, but that wasn’t right. It wasn’t that he didn’t experience sexual attraction, that he didn’t want to have sex… it was the fact that emotions had to be involved to acquire those things and Isaac hated emotions. 

He also didn’t do jealousy, especially when it came to his friends, but he found himself jealous of the fact that Erica was going to get to spend time with someone that… 

That what? That he didn’t know? That he bumped into in the hall? That he had absolutely no future with- friendship or otherwise? Isaac didn’t trust anyone enough to let them be his friend other than Scott, Stiles, and Erica. Hell, he didn’t even trust Derek. So what good would being jealous do?

“Keep it together, Lahey,” he mumbled. 

But maybe… maybe it would be different. She knew what it was like to be adopted. She knew the pain of having your blood family so far out of your reach that you couldn’t even glimpse them. Maybe her story was way different that his but…

“Fucking stop,” he told himself. “Move on. English awaits, fuckhead.” 

But English was a lost cause. 

If he were into dating, he’d be into girls like Lydia, he’s almost sure of it. Wasn’t that the new norm? Punk guys with cheerleader types? Or he might even break code and go with a girl like Erica. Loud mouth and punk to the very core. That could be fun. Not with Erica, of course. Just girls like Erica. Or Lydia. Or any girl who didn’t look like she borrowed sweaters from the elderly. 

His pen is tapping a rhythm on his desk and he wishes he could just focus in because this paper is due in 5 hours and he’s nowhere near finished. 

_But would it be so bad if you were just a fuckin’ normal dude and had a crush on someone? Would that be the worst thing ever? His brain whispers. Because she’s cute, dude. She’s got nice hair and a cute body and a really great pair of-_

“Canterbury Tales,” he shakes his head. “Focus in.” 

_Not to mention that voice. Man, sweet and soft. Could you imagine that voice in your ear? Just whispering about-_

“Chaucer was a dick,” he says, scribbling it down on his paper. “And the Canterbury Tales suck.” 

But he erases it because his English teacher has an obvious boner for Chaucer and maybe he could phrase that sentence just a little better. 

_Imagine how cool it would be to have someone come to your shows. Someone to watch you guys and cheer you on even though all of you really suck. And you could be interested in what she’s doing. She likes books. You like books. You could read stuff together and-_

“For fuck’s sake,” Isaac slams his pen down, tipping back in his chair. “Stop it, Isaac. Let it go.” 

But maybe his mind was on to something. It wouldn’t be so terrible to be in a relationship with someone. Or even just try to be friends. Of course, there was Erica to consider in all of this but Isaac had the sneaking suspicion that, like all of Erica’s fascinations, this one would blaze out pretty quickly. 

So he closes his eyes and tries to imagine what it would be like to hold her hand in school or give her books to read or kiss her full, pouty lips and-

His back starts to ache as soon as the chair lands. Maybe he tipped too far back. Maybe he lost his balance. 

Either way, he just realized how bowled over he is by Laramie Whittemore’s very existence.


End file.
